


Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Series: One Hundred Ways To Say "I Love You" [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Nightmares, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: "They are not who they were before. It shows."~ The war is over. Jemma and Fitz are back together but their relationship is fickle now. Sometimes, Jemma feels like she's laying in bed next to a stranger, sometimes she just wants to cling to Fitz and never let go. ~ (Written for number 16: "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway.")
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: One Hundred Ways To Say "I Love You" [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698595
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

The days after the war ends feel hollow. 

They are too silent. 

It seems like the village is frozen. Like the whole world is asking silent questions. What now? What’s left of us? How much died forever in the bloodsoaked mud and black ruins and smoke-filled near-derelict cellars? 

The world is not what it was before. It shows. 

Wounds heal slowly, but they leave tracks behind that won’t ever fade. 

The war is over but not gone and Jemma is tired. She feels so much older than she really is. Burned out like the houses around her. 

Sometimes, she wants to give in. Sometimes, she just can’t find something to hold on. Sometimes, she just wants to lay down and sleep. Sometimes, dreams are nice. Dreams are escape. Hope. 

She dreams of better days. Sometimes. 

But more frequently, Jemma dreams of days ending in fire and blood.   
  
She dreams of the sudden ear-pitching noise of sirens breaking through the peaceful silence of the night. 

She dreams of paper soaked in tears. Smeared letters. 

She dreams of bloody hands clutching at her, a mouth trying to whisper last words, haunted blank eyes holding on to hers, as if they were an anchor. 

She dreams of Fitz stepping out of a dusty train, of her heart jumping when she discovers him in the crowd, only to falter when she sees the emptiness where his right leg is supposed to be. When she sees, how he leans on crutches, close to falling. She runs and holds him, holds them both upright and their tears mingle. 

Sometimes, Jemma wakes up screaming and Fitz looks at her in the dark, his eyes wide. He reaches for her, but she recoils from his hands and he flinches back like he was burned. Jemma turns away so that she doesn’t have to see the expression of hurt in his eyes. 

In other nights, it’s Fitz who wakes her with his screams. He almost always cries after a nightmare, but buries his face in the pillow to stifle the noises and she knows, he still feels ashamed. After everything he’s been through, he still feels like he’s weak for showing emotions and she feels too much rage, to be a good comforter then. Sometimes, Fitz lets her hug him, in other nights, even a touch on his shoulder is too much. And she tries not to be hurt, because she’s doing the same. She’s recoiling too. Often enough. 

It’s not always like this. Often enough, Jemma curtly apologizes for screaming, wiping her tears away, and Fitz shakes his head, saying “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway”, and Jemma remembers all the horrors he must have been gone through, remembers all the horrors she has seen the last few years and she starts to break down, not resisting when Fitz pulls her into his arms, closing them around her trembling body, to warm and shield her, whispering soft words into her ears. 

They are not who they were before. It shows. Open wounds on the outside and inside. 

There are days, when Fitz feels like a stranger and Jemma wants to touch him but also doesn’t want to. Days when they fight until their voices are hoarse. Fighting over things that doesn’t matter anymore. There are days when they don’t talk at all. When the silence lingering between them threatens to choke Jemma. In the past, they always knew what to say and even the silence felt comforting. 

Now, it just feels like a never ending question. 

What are they now? 

Are they broken?

Is their connection shattered? 

She remembers the whispered promises from before the war and sometimes, they are enough to make her not flee to her older sister, or her mother or someone who is not Fitz with his hollowed out eyes and paper thin skin. Even if they sound like bitter mocking jokes in her head now. 

_Promise you come back._

_I will. Promise to take care._

_I will._

He came back, but not whole. She took care, but it wasn’t enough to keep her sane. 

Now, on bad days, when she feels so powerless she can’t leave bed and when she sees Fitz reaching for his lost leg because phantom pain is torturing him, Jemma thinks promises shouldn’t be made. They can’t be kept anyway. 

One day, Jemma comes into the living room and sees Fitz sitting on the floor under the window, the sunbeams falling through the thin curtains making his hair look soft and golden. His eyes sparkle in deep blue and she thinks how handsome he is, her heart aching. He is holding his old uniform in his hands, staring down at it blankly. 

“Fitz?” Jemma’s questioning voice is so loud in the quiet, almost empty room. It echoes from the walls. 

Fitz looks up at her and she startles at the wetness sparkling in the corners of his eyes. 

“What do you need?” She asks. 

“I need it gone,” Fitz says. 

And Jemma knows what he means. Knows what his heart craves. Knows, she can’t give it to him. Not like this. It happened. It can’t be made unhappen. The war happened and they were pulled into it like everyone, because it’s their time and they only have this life. The war happened and it took Fitz’s leg and a good part of his sanity, took Jemma’s way to look at life, made it difficult for her to see good things in this world. 

It happened. 

But there are things she can take from him. Things she can get rid of. 

When it’s dark, Jemma leads Fitz outside. She lays his uniform and her nurse clothes on a heap of dry wood. She lights a match and throws it. The flames lick at the torn faint fabric quickly, hungrily. The night starts to smell of smoke. 

Jemma breathes it in deeply. Fitz makes a choked off noise at her side, his eyes fixed on the fire. Jemma leans against him. She feels his solid presence at her side and that’s more than enough for now. 

There’s not much she wants. Not even from the future. 

She’s too sober now. 

There are no wonders she’s expecting from the world. From them. 

She just wants a chance. Just a chance that maybe, they’ll find better days. Because no matter how silent it gets between them, no matter how often Fitz turns away from her or how often Jemma recoils from his touch when she cries from a nightmare, they still are connected. It’s a thin line they are balancing on, but it’s still a line they stand on together, facing each other and most of the times, reaching out, making sure the other one won’t fall over the edge, into the abyss. 

Most of the times. 

Jemma sighs and lays her head on Fitz’s shoulder carefully. Fitz wraps a hesitant arm around her. 

  
Together they watch the fire dance, watch the golden sparks fly high as the past burns, burns, burns.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> These short stories are written for prompts on this list: [One Hundred Ways To Say "I Love You"](https://phantasticlizzy.tumblr.com/post/169119615088/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you)
> 
> You can prompt me, just send me the number and a ship on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> This One Shot also was written for Team Earth's April Song Challenge, Song: Better Days by The Goo Goo Dolls.


End file.
